


Skin

by paperscribe



Series: Dragon AU [1]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Magical Realism, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1470331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James has a secret.  In other news, the sky is blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin

They were working late one night, the only two left in the nick, and Lewis suddenly found the evidence they needed in the files of a past case. Triumphantly, he wheeled round the corner into the office. "Got it!"

Hathaway clearly hadn't expected him at that precise moment, and he struggled into his jacket, but not before Lewis had had a chance to see his arms, which were covered with angry, splotchy red rashes. Hathaway avoided Lewis's eyes, staring straight ahead with his 'please don't ask me any questions' expression.

"Does it hurt?" Lewis asked, case temporarily forgotten.

Hathaway relaxed visibly, as though he'd expected something worse. "Thank you for not asking if it's catching. Which it isn't, by the way." He paused. "They're sore sometimes."

"Have you seen someone about it?" Lewis asked.

Wrong question. "Yes, I've seen someone, and no, there's nothing to be done about it," Hathaway snapped. Then he winced. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just…if I could get rid of them, I would."

Lewis nodded. "Of course. It's none of my business." He paused. "Lyn had a bit of that as a baby."

Hathaway frowned at him. "What?"

"Eczema," Lewis said. "She had it on her face though."

Hathaway nodded. "But it…cleared up?"

Lewis nodded. "When she got older. What's yours from?"

Hathaway shrugged. "It's a…genetic thing." He paused. "Sir, I…it's very embarrassing to me, so I'd appreciate if you wouldn't mention it to anyone."

"You know me better than that," Lewis said indignantly. "Only person I ever talk to is you anyway."

"Well, don't tell me either," Hathaway said. He sounded as though he were joking, but Lewis suspected he wasn't. He seemed that self-conscious about it. Lewis wondered if it might be some sort of stress reaction. The lad worked too hard sometimes…fretted too much.

"No, I won't," Lewis said. "Does explain the long sleeves though."

Hathaway nodded sheepishly. "It hides them."

"Lucky yours isn't on your face," Lewis said.

It was an odd reaction, but he thought he saw Hathaway shudder.

***

It was a warm day to begin with, and in Lewis's kitchen, where he and Hathaway were washing the dishes, it was swelteringly hot.

"You can roll up your sleeves if you like," Lewis said.

"I'm fine," Hathaway said firmly.

"Lad, you're not fine. Your entire head is the colour of a tomato."

Hathaway sighed, clearly weighing the pros and cons of the situation. Then he rolled up his sleeves and got back to the dishes.

Something glinted, reflecting light into Lewis's eyes. "Turn your watch around. Keeps flashing in me eyes."

"I'm not wearing a watch." Hathaway's voice was emotionless.

Lewis turned to look at Hathaway, and…no, he wasn't wearing a watch. His rashes looked the same as they had before, except they were covered with some sort of nasty shiny stuff.

"Has it got worse?" Lewis asked. "James, it might be infected."

Hathaway jerked his arms out of reach. "Don't touch them."

Lewis looked at him. "I wasn't going to. Thought you said it wasn't catching."

"It isn't, but I still don't want you to touch them." Hathaway looked miserable now.

"All right," Lewis said, looking at them again. The shiny stuff was what was glinting in the light, but it didn't look wet and rashy. It looked solid, and seemed to be overlapping in a certain pattern…

…bloody hell, were those _scales_?

"Yes," Hathaway said quietly. "It is. It's exactly what you think."

Lewis looked at him, then shook his head. "Don't know what I think. Don't know what it means yet."

"Dragon ancestry," Hathaway said, voice still soft. "Not recently, oh, no, but I would be the throwback, wouldn't I? Generations with no visible signs and I'd be the one with scales."

"Wouldn't make any difference to me if you had wings and a tail, would it?" Lewis asked stoutly. 

"Wouldn't it?"

Lewis looked at Hathaway, perplexed. "Of course it wouldn't. Just because the nobs you went to school with have ideas about people with dragon blood doesn't mean I do!"

"Not just them," Hathaway said. "By rights, I should resign."

Lewis knew Hathaway must mean according to the Dragon Act of 1798. It was a relic, but whenever people decided they were still worried about dragon ancestry, they'd always point to that law, which was still on the books. "That doesn't apply to police. Policing didn't even work back then like it does today." He nudged Hathaway's arm with his. "Besides, I'm not training another sergeant. You'll have to stay."

He could feel Hathaway's eyes on him, could feel Hathaway trying to work out if he was serious.

"Thank you, sir," Hathaway said finally.

Lewis nodded. "Come on. Let's finish these so we can stand in front of the fridge with the door open."

Hathaway chuckled. "Right."

***

They were sitting on the sofa later that night when Hathaway said, "The rash started when I was little, but the scales didn't come in until later."

"Oh?" Lewis had learned to say as little as possible on the rare occasions when Hathaway felt like unburdening himself.

"Not until my last year at university. By then it was too late--I'd already applied and been accepted at the seminary here. And you know how the Church is about…about my kind."

There was an entire unspoken world in the words 'my kind'. Hathaway separating himself from other people. Hathaway separating himself from his friends…maybe even from family members who hadn't known about or who had denied their heritage. Separating himself from humanity, when he shouldn't. Lewis had always been of the opinion that just because a person didn't think he knew any dragons didn't mean he actually didn't know any; it just meant they were very, very good at hiding. And if they had become indistinguishable from humans in the end, why create false distinctions?

"Did someone find out?" Lewis asked.

"No. But I was sure they would. I was terrified they would. They'd never ordain a dragon priest, even if he wasn't full dragon. And if I was ordained and then they found out…" Hathaway shook his head. "In the end, I could bear the idea of leaving the seminary better than I could bear the idea of being defrocked or excommunicated."

Lewis rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Hathaway shrugged. "Dragons aren't exactly welcome anywhere, are they? I'm surprised it took me as long as it did to understand that."

"You're welcome here," Lewis said quietly. "And as far as work goes, I wouldn't go to a place you couldn't come with me."

Hathaway was quiet for a moment. "I don't understand why this doesn't bother you."

"Val had an auntie was a dragon," Lewis said. "When she got older, she had a smoke-breathing problem. Had to carry a cigarette all the time so the smoke wouldn't look suspicious. I saw what happened when people knew…when they thought they knew. And I saw how it hurt her. All she wanted to do was live a normal life. Like you. Like anyone. She had to live in the middle of nowhere because no one wanted to live next door." He shook his head. "I won't let them do that to you, James. And I won't let you do it to yourself either."

"Thank you." Hathaway's voice was soft.

Lewis thought of something. "Does it…bother you? When I touch you?"

"No, not through clothing. The scales…" Hathaway shook his head. "I don't like when people touch them."

Lewis nodded. "Okay. No touching the scales." He paused. "Probably makes them hurt worse, I expect."

Hathaway shrugged. "Not really. They're sore sometimes, or they itch, but it doesn't have much to do with what anyone else does." He smiled wryly. "Apparently they itch most when something's healing."

"What, the scales on your arms heal you when you're hurt?" Lewis asked.

"Not the scales. Not exactly. Being part-dragon, you tend to have a bit of healing magic in you…maybe in your blood. I'm not sure where it comes from; I've never read anything that made that clear. It's why I'm hardly ever ill. The scales form when you've got more magic than you can use. They're sort of…receptacles for the extra bits of it," Hathaway said. "One reason I've never been able to quit smoking…it doesn't do me any damage and it…keeps the scale problem under control."

Lewis's eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Really," Hathaway said with a nod. Then he cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. "Any deep dark secrets you'd like to tell me?"

"Used to be a selkie, but kept getting chills from all that time spent in cold water," Lewis quipped.

Hathaway laughed. "That is a problem."

Lewis could tell Hathaway needed a distraction. "Come on. There must be some documentary on BBC4 you'll like. We can watch it and you can point out all the errors in it."

Hathaway pretended to be affronted. "I don't do that."

"You bloody do."

"Only in areas I know about."

"Which is everything."

"Not everything." Hathaway waited an appropriate beat before continuing, "You're the subject specialist on Jeffrey Archer."

Lewis crossed his eyes at Hathaway, which made Hathaway laugh. As it should.

***

When they'd gone to collect Allenby and charge him with murder, he'd made a feint at Hathaway with a knife. Now Allenby was in the car and Hathaway stood holding his arm, his sleeve slashed by the blade.

Lewis crossed to him anxiously. "Did he get you?"

"No," Hathaway whispered. "It glanced off the…" He indicated his arm with his gaze, reluctant to say the word 'scales'. Lewis realised he wasn't holding his arm because he'd been injured…he was holding his sleeve together so no one could see his arm.

Lewis removed his tie. "Move your hand."

Hathaway gave him a wary look but did as he was asked. Lewis wrapped his tie round Hathaway's arm over the shredded sleeve until the exposed area was covered.

"That should do for a bandage until you can be seen to," he said gruffly.

Hathaway looked surprised but deeply grateful. "Thank you, sir."

Lewis nodded, patting him gently on the shoulder. "Let's get you home so you can change your shirt."

***

They were questioning Sheila Kempe about the death of her housekeeper when she volunteered, "Well, you know why she had to work as a housekeeper, of course."

"Why is that?" Lewis asked.

Sheila snorted. "She was a lizard."

Lewis felt rather than saw Hathaway flinch next to him. 'Lizard' was the standard slur for anyone with a bit of dragon blood in him. Lewis wondered how many times Hathaway had heard the word…had maybe even used the word before he'd known it had applied to him.

"Why do you think that?" Lewis asked.

"She had the pupils. Like a cat's," Sheila said, her expression contemptuous. "She's lucky I let her in my house at all."

Hathaway wanted to do something…to lash out and defend himself. Lewis could feel it. But he knew Hathaway would immediately regret any outburst, not least because it could potentially expose a secret he was trying to keep.

He stood abruptly. "Thank you, Mrs Kempe. Sergeant, with me."

Hathaway didn't want to leave, but he reluctantly followed Lewis back to their office, closing the door behind them so they could have some privacy. "You didn't ask all your questions."

"Thought it might be better to get you out of there first," Lewis said.

"Because I'm a lizard?" The question was biting, angry.

"You know I don't use that word," Lewis said. "And no, since you ask. If I had someone saying nasty things about Geordies, I'd get a bit snappy meself. And I'd expect you to take me aside. In fact, I know you would."

Hathaway exhaled, nodding his agreement. "I'm sorry."

"No need," Lewis said. "We all have things that push us too far."

Hathaway nodded.

"I'll finish the questioning. You can stand outside and watch if you like but if you'd rather not have any more to do with her, I understand," Lewis said.

Hathaway nodded again. Silence never seemed to bode well for Hathaway's state of mind.

"After I'm done, I'll buy you a coffee," Lewis added.

Hathaway's facial expression very loosely resembled a smile. "Cheers."

Lewis didn't mention it again until he was driving Hathaway home that night. "I hope you know that if you need to talk about something, you can talk to me." 

Hathaway nodded. "I know. Thank you."

But Lewis knew Hathaway never would. He wasn't the sort to admit…well, anything, really. He'd leave it inside either until it didn't matter any more or until it got so bad it would burst out of him.

Lewis wished he knew some way to help.

***

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and Lewis couldn't breathe.

Neither of them had seen the gun until it was too late. Lewis didn't know where they had shot him, but it didn't much matter. As black spots began to spread across his vision, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He could see Hathaway's face above him, mouth moving, but he couldn't understand the words somehow, though he had a vague idea what Hathaway must be saying.

 _I'm sorry,_ he thought, unable to speak the words. _James. I'm sorry._

Hathaway was reaching under his sleeve now, and he made a sound of pain. Then he pressed something to Lewis's wound, and there was a curious warmth spreading through his abdomen…

…and Lewis took a great, gasping breath, coughing the liquid out of his lungs. Oh. Oh, air. Lewis took another deep breath, holding the air in his lungs long as he could before exhaling it again. His vision was beginning to clear. Breathing…bloody hell, breathing was amazing. He took another deep breath, savouring the sensation.

"James," he gasped. "What happened?"

Hathaway looked at him with an unreadable expression, something between hope and concern.

Lewis tried again. "What did you do?" He looked at James, looked at the way he was holding his arm as though he was in pain, and then he understood. The scales were where the extra healing magic was stored, James had said. James had…had pulled one from his arm to try to heal Lewis. And it had worked.

"You saved me," Lewis whispered.

"I didn't know if it would heal you," James answered softly. "But I hoped it would."

Lewis was feeling well enough now to lift his head and look at his abdomen. The wound was closing already, slowly but surely.

"I'm sorry," James said.

Lewis frowned at him. "For what?"

James paused, then said, "I don't know what this will do to you."

Lewis shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm alive." He paused, still feeling a bit weak and shaky from his close call, then murmured, "Though I think I might possibly pass out in a minute."

Hathaway smiled slightly. "Understood."

"Ta," Lewis said, and promptly lost consciousness.

***

For the first few weeks after Lewis returned to work, James would greet him in the morning with a wary, "Do you feel any different?" After two or three weeks of Lewis answering, "No," every time, James stopped asking the question.

Lewis didn't feel any different. Well, maybe a bit more fit. He could be imagining that, though, knowing what dragon healing magic could do.

In fact, nothing happened until one day at work, when Lewis said to James, "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"No," James said. "Just the usual useless attempts to try to find something to fill the time."

Lewis paused halfway to his desk, turning to James and frowning. "Sorry?"

James looked back at Lewis, brow faintly creased. "What?"

"What you said, about the…" Lewis gestured. "Trying to find something to fill the time. Is that true?"

James looked alarmed. "I didn't say that."

"You did. I heard you," Lewis said.

James opened his mouth to argue, but then he seemed to stop and think of something. "Say something aloud to me. But think something else while you're saying it."

Lewis was definitely confused now. "What?"

"Think…I don't know. 'How's the wife and kids.' But say, 'Hello.' Something like that."

"You know this is a strange thing to ask," Lewis said, eyebrows raised.

"Humour me," James said.

Lewis tried to think of something. _This is daft._ "How are you?"

"It's not daft," James said.

Lewis's mouth fell open. "How…how did you…?"

"The same way you heard what I was thinking," James said. "It's something called true speech. You hear what the other person means instead of what they say. Unless they mean what they say, in which case…you hear what they say."

Lewis shook his head. "How are we…doing it? Is this…are we going to be able to hear what suspects are thinking about and all?"

James shook his head. "No. It only works between you and me. Even other people can't…if Innocent were in the room, she'd hear what we said, not what we were thinking of."

"Why us?" Lewis asked.

"We're bonded," James said. "Because of…because of what you have of mine."

One tiny bit of healing magic from someone who was only a tiny bit dragon could do this? Now Lewis understood why James had been so worried about what might happen.

"Bonded," Lewis said. "What's that mean? What else can we do?"

James shook his head. "Just this, as far as I know. True speech is a…I've read about it, but I never heard of anyone who could actually do it."

"Except us," Lewis said.

James nodded. "Except us."

"Not going to be able to keep a lot of secrets between us, are we?" Lewis asked.

James shook his head, looking a bit worried.

"I don't mean I'm going to pry," Lewis said. "And…if there are things you want kept secret, I'll understand."

James smiled slightly. "You know my biggest secret. What else is there?"

Lewis smiled back. "Right." He sat behind his desk, examining the detritus scattered across the top of it.

"Sir?"

"Mm?" Lewis looked across at James.

"I wouldn't trust anyone else to know my secrets," James said quietly.

Lewis wondered if James had said that aloud or had only thought it. "You're all right." _I won't let you down._

James smiled. "I know."

Lewis was glad he did. "Oh, by the way…got new pictures of me grandson today."

James's smile grew. "Show me?"

Lewis gave him an amused look. "As if you had to ask."

James chuckled.

"No, he looks just like me," Lewis said proudly. "Scales on his belly and that."

James nodded automatically, but it took a moment for his thoughts to catch up. "Wait. What?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Lewis asked innocently. "Where you healed me came out in scales. Little tiny ones. They shine rainbow colours in the sunlight--did you know that?"

"No," James said weakly. "And that's…you're not…upset?"

"Course not," Lewis said. "Told you, Val had an auntie. We're thinking that's where my grandson got his from, that side of the family."

"Lyn's not upset either?" James asked cautiously.

"No, she's chuffed she doesn't have to worry about him catching cold," Lewis said with a grin.

Hesitantly, James smiled back. "The Lewises don't worry much about dragons, do they?"

Lewis shook his head. "Related to too many of them for that."

James didn't say anything more. But his mood improved dramatically, and he was nearly cheerful by the end of the day.

Lewis resolved to take James to meet the family one day. Might help to see a family that accepted all its members…dragon and non-dragon both. Lewis wasn't sure which one he was now…dragon or non-dragon…but it didn't matter. 

And some day, hopefully James would believe that as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to uniquepov and Lindenharp, who talked me through a block.


End file.
